#sister

My grandfather was in a barbershop quartet and my grandmother was in a gospel quartet with her sisters. ↗

— Kevin Richardson

#grandfather #grandmother #her #quartet #sisters

I love being a mother. I loved being a daughter, a sister, a wife. I love being a woman with men. I love having given birth. ↗

— Jessica Lange

#birth #daughter #given #having #i

Please, don't hate me because I am beautiful. ↗

— Michael Buckley

#beauty

There comes a point at which you stop giving things up. That is what i won't give up. None of it will i give up, for my beautiful sister Ivy who lies in bed. Ivy who used to be alive. Ivy who used to be. Ivy who used. Ivy who. Ivy-who-is-not-me. Not me. Not me. Not me. ↗

— Alison McGhee

#moving-on #sisters #beauty

A woman isn't all that different from a bonfire. A fire's a beautiful thing, right? Something you can't take your eyes off, when it's burning. If you can keep it contained, it'll throw light and heat for you. It's only when it gets out of control that you have to go on the offensive. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#my-sister-s-keeper #woman #beauty

If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone? ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#loss #sisters #death

Whilst the wolflets bayed, A grave was made, And then with the strokes of a silver spade, It was filled to make a mound. And for two cold days and three long nights, The father tended that holy plot; And stayed by where his wife was laid, In the grave within the ground. ↗

— Roman Payne

#burial #death #father-and-wife #grave #payne

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#sisterhood #union #dreams

I wanted only a familiar voice, someone who knew me. Not some earlier, larval version of myself. . . ↗

— Jennifer Haigh

#companionship #family #growing-up #secrets #sisters

There once was a girl who found herself dead. She peered over the ledge of heaven and saw that back on earth her sister missed her too much, was way too sad, so she crossed some paths that would not have crossed, took some moments in her hand shook them up and spilled them like dice over the living world. It worked. The boy with the guitar collided with her sister. "There you go, Len," she whispered. "The rest is up to you. ↗

— Jandy Nelson

#grief #heaven #sisters #death